


Miranda's Chairs

by dragonsandrockets



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:01:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29109747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonsandrockets/pseuds/dragonsandrockets
Summary: Shepard argues with Miranda over her chair collection.
Relationships: Miranda Lawson/Female Shepard
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Miranda's Chairs

**Author's Note:**

> To the friend who said Miranda's chairs were unimportant.

“The data suggests that someone has been smuggling a large amount of medical supplies to this former Alliance base, but there has been no other activity. No persons have been identified in the area. So, why are supplies being dropped here?”

Liara turned her back on the console and faced a tired Commander Shepard. Shepard had completed six intense missions in three days. In that time, she had saved rachni, watched civilians be gunned down and had far too close a call with a thresher maw (Steve will still repairing the shuttle). The longest she had been on the ship in one stretch had been three hours. She wanted sleep. But, here she was: listening to Liara sign her up for yet another damn mission.

“You want us to investigate?’ Shepard asked, leaning heavily against the opposite wall. This sounded like a task for anyone else. Anyone who could stand upright without feeling dizzy, anyway. Even Miranda wasn’t paying attention. She was sat in the corner, staring intently at a datapad. There were dark circles under her eyes. Their workload had quadrupled since the start of the war. Miranda was fielding endless requests for support that Traynor sent her way, and was taking part in as many missions as Shepard. Liara was not helping by bringing in her own requests. They needed her intel. But it was causing all sorts of arguments over which missions should get priority. And they did not have time to argue. 

“We need those medical supplies,” Liara responded. “Even if nothing is there, we need them back. Chakwas has been desperate for supplies for weeks, and the Citadel can't spare any. This is an opportunity.”

“Any squad could retrieve them,” Shepard pointed out.

“But,” Miranda interjected, “we don’t know what we would be sending other squads into." Shepard stifled a groan of annoyance. Of course, Miranda had listened to every word of the plan. And, of course, she wanted to go. "The Alliance is in the system, but most of their units are made up of soldiers who only just learned how to point and shoot. This is either bait, or there is a bigger operation going on than we have discovered. It might be better if we go than send newly enlisted civilians.”

“You think _this_ is worth it?” Shepard asked, eyebrows raised.

“I have no idea,” Miranda answered, finally looking up. “But we will find out what is happening there. I’m not sure other teams in the area could.”

“This could be important,” Liara agreed.

“Fine,” Shepard bit.

“The console has data on the environment if you want to prepare,” Liara said. “I’ll speak with Chakwas about the supplies.”

Liara shot Miranda an apologetic look. As the door shut, Miranda turned her attention to Shepard. 

“Is something wrong with you two?”

“Why?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Miranda sighed, before standing up and moving toward the console. She glanced over the maps. “To the west would be a good place to set up an ambush. Good cover.”

“Agree,” Shepard said. “Probably Cerberus. _If_ there is anything there at all.”

“Maybe,” Miranda muttered. “But don’t underestimate the black market. People are desperate, and tied of sharing with the Citadel.” Shepard stepped back and nodded. “So, what is going on with you two?” Miranda turned around and crossed her arms, scrutinising Shepard.

Shepard met her gaze. “I never thought you were particularly concerned with group harmony.”

“ _I’m_ not, but _you_ are,” Miranda smiled. “And you’re sulking over something. You would have said what was going on otherwise.”

“I do not sulk,” Shepard retorted.

“You’re still sulking Jacob didn’t join us and that was weeks ago.”

Shepard rolled her eyes. She had been disappointed in Jacob's choice, and, in truth, envious. He wasn't on the front line and he got to stay with his partner. He'd earned the right to choose that path, of course. But Shepard missed him, and wished she had the freedom to choose. “Does this not annoy you at all?” Shepard asked, looking around at the room. 

“This conversation?” Miranda asked. 

“This!” Shepard burst out, gesturing toward the room. “This was your room.”

Miranda hesitated. “Are you saying you’re unhappy we share a room now?” Miranda asked carefully.

“Of course not! But nobody asked if they could have this room for you, or from me. I’m the Commander.” 

This had felt like a very different ship from the one that had taken them to victory against the Collectors. The people were different. There were new security measures. Shepard had to endure an excruciating wait just to get in and out of the war room each day. The Alliance had even changed the lights. Liara had moved in every single console she needed as shadow broker, and into Miranda's old quarters. 

“It wasn’t occupied,” Miranda shrugged. “I wasn’t here.”

“Your things still were,” Shepard was sulking now and realisation rushed across Miranda’s gaze.

“Oh, _seriously_?”

“Your chairs, Miranda! I don’t even know who took them! Nobody will own up to it. Cowards.”

"This is not a priority."

" _They_ were here when the ship was taken from me. After _we_ defeated the collectors. And yet they claim to have no knowledge of the changes to this ship?"

“A superior is storming around the ship, wild-eyed, demanding to know where chairs are – chairs which were probably left on earth and destroyed by the reapers. Can you blame them for not wanting to admit to anything?”

“That Alliance badge is supposed to mean something!” Shepard insisted, vehement.

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Complacency, usually.”

“This is serious, Miranda.” 

Miranda released an exhausted sigh. “Shepard, I appreciate your concern, I do. But we’ve been fighting reapers for months. I can live without my chairs.”

“You had a whole collection.”

“It wasn’t _a collection_.”

“There were at least four of them. In one office. On a ship. How many chairs does a person need? It was a collection.”

“They weren’t all for me,” Miranda replied curtly.

“Obviously.”

Miranda gave Shepard a glacial look.

“You didn’t like having meetings here because the sofa faced the window. I know seeing the stars brings back memories of your death, and even the shutters don't help because of some peculiar notion about windows being structural weaknesses. I added the extra chairs so you could always have your back to the window, even when Jacob was present at our meetings.”

“You bought me chairs?” Shepard asked quietly.

“It was easier to meet in here. Kelly Chambers was always looking for reasons to barge into your quarters,” Miranda said, scathing. She shrugged once more, and picked her datapad back up. Shepard gave an exaggerated sigh.

“Fine, I’ll marry you.”

Miranda threw her datapad on the table, exasperated.

“ _What_?”

“You asked me to marry you.”

“And you said no. You insisted that I was only proposing to make everyone feel better while I left to look for Ori. You acted like it was a consolation prize I was giving you.”

“Yes, but I was wrong. Clearly. And if I mean that much you’ll start a collection of chairs for me, then I think I should marry you.”

“Can I take back the proposal?” Miranda’s tone was cold, but her face softened.

“No,” Shepard replied gently.

“If we must, then,” Miranda retorted, and walking towards the door. “Now suit up. We’ll be descending soon. And be nice to Liara.”

“Whatever you say, Miss Lawson.”


End file.
